


Roll for Initiative

by Ikira



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst with a Happy Ending, DnD AU, Dungeons and Dragons AU, Here there be dragons, Implied/Referenced Character Death, LITERALLY, M/M, background klance, even more background Hunk/Shay, like so background it barely counts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 00:49:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11863179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ikira/pseuds/Ikira
Summary: There is a famous tale about the Kingdom of Altea. For many it seems too fantastical to be real. Princesses and gods? Dragons and adventurers? Good versus evil with a side of a basket of kittens? A barbarian who knows how tocook?How could anyone believe such outlandish claims! But the storyteller always insists it’s true, and that the experience was way more terrifying than it actually sounds.And way more fun.(In other words: A paladin, sorcerer, rogue, bard, barbarian, ranger, and cleric go on an adventure to save the kingdom, and everything is awesome)(AKA: The DnD AU that no one asked for)





	Roll for Initiative

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to **thatrobotgirl** for betaing for me again, you rock!
> 
> I have no idea where this came from. I think I was inspired by that new ending to BNHA? The one where they're in a fantasy AU? I just loved it and thought that Voltron needed their own version of that. And because I'm Shatt trash, I couldn't resist tossing that in as well.
> 
> While this AU is mostly based on the Dungeons and Dragons 'verse and tries to follow its rules and guidelines, I kind of fudged some details and I likely messed some things up. It's been a very long time since I've played DnD, and I'm sure things have changed since I last had a session, so this certainly won't be perfect. But I tried my best, and I hope you enjoy it anyways!

When Shiro woke up, it was to find a pair of people standing over him, one wearing a pointed hat and the colourful robes of a sorcerer-in-training, the other heavily cloaked and hard to identify under their deep hood. He was in the middle of a forest clearing it seemed, flat on his back with nothing but trees around them, and he had absolutely no memory of how he’d gotten there.

Or really any memories at all. That was a bit of a problem.

“Are you okay?” the sorcerer asked him, while his companion kept a wary hand on the short dagger at their hip.

“I don’t know,” Shiro answered honestly. “Where am I?”

“Arus wood,” the sorcerer told him, giving his body a worried once-over as he searched for wounds. His work was made harder by the fact that Shiro was apparently wearing full plate armour. The armour looked to be well made, with the image of a roaring lion emblazoned on his tabard, but it was battered and scratched heavily as well. He must have been in some kind of battle recently. Was that how he’d gotten into these woods?

“Arus wood?” Shiro repeated, still confused. He wracked his mind for any knowledge he had of such a place, but at the moment all he could remember was his own name. And he suspected that ‘Shiro’ was more a nickname than his true name. “I don’t know this place,” he confessed after a moment’s thought. “What kingdom is this?”

The sorcerer gave him an odd look, but answered. “The Great Kingdom of Altea, of course. Have you hit your head?”

“Maybe,” Shiro said slowly. His head _did_ hurt. But at least he was getting some answers; he knew the name Altea. “I will be honest; I don’t remember much of anything.”

The sorcerer’s eyebrows shot up to disappear beneath his bushy copper-coloured bangs. “Nothing? Not even how you came to be here? Not even what happened to your arm?”

“My arm?” Shiro squeaked in confusion and alarm as he turned his head to look.

His eyes went wide with shock and fear as he saw what the sorcerer was talking about; the armour on his right arm had been stripped away, but the skin itself looked like it had become coated in a silvery white metal. Strange golden runes ran up and down its length, glowing faintly.

He stared at it for a second in absolute horror, and then let out a sharp cry, scrambling to get up, to get away to the strange thing attached to his body.

“Hey, no!” the sorcerer yelped, dropping to his side and pinning him down against the forest floor with a hand on his chest. “Don’t move, I don’t know if you’re hurt elsewhere!”

“What happened to my arm?!” Shiro yelled, ignoring the sorcerer’s attempts to calm him. “What happened to my _arm_?!”

His horror only grew as the arm seemed to flex and move just like his original flesh, but everything it touched felt muted and stunted, as if it wasn’t quite real. Worse still, as he started to panic, the runes changed from a golden colour to a deep, sinister purple, the glow intensifying.

“Stop!” the sorcerer shouted over Shiro’s cries of panic. “It’s okay! I already checked your arm over for any sign of dark magic, and there’s nothing there!”

Shiro paused as the sorcerer’s words sunk in. “What do you mean?”

The sorcerer huffed and sat back on his heels, satisfied that Shiro wasn’t going to move anymore and hurt himself. “I did some basic divination while you were unconscious because Pidge thought it might be a trap.” The sorcerer jerked his thumb in his companion’s direction, who just tilted their head in acknowledgement. “As far as I can tell, your arm is definitely magic in origin, but it’s really advanced stuff. It almost seems like it was made somehow with a combination of divine and arcane magics, which as far as I know, isn’t possible. Then again, I’m still training, so maybe I just haven’t gotten that far in my studies yet.”

“…Divine magic?” Maybe it was a bit silly to focus on that part over everything else, but as far as Shiro’s spotty memory could tell him, divine magic was almost always used for good. By its very nature, it was practically impossible to use divine magic to harm others, thought Shiro was sure there were people out there who were smart enough and cruel enough to do it. But they would be rare, and if Shiro’s strange new limb was made with divine magic, it couldn’t be bad…right?

“What else did you find out?” he finally asked, looking down at his arm in curiosity now, instead of fear.

“Not much,” the sorcerer admitted with a sheepish shrug. “I’m not very good at divination, unfortunately. About all I can tell is that it’s made from those magics, and that I _think_ it has some kind of inflict wounds spell woven into it? But I’m not a divine magic user, so again, I could be wrong.”

“Oh…” Shiro said slowly, looking down. It sounded like neither of them knew much about what had happened, then. Still, it was a relief to know that his arm seemed to have come from some sort of divine magic. If he’d woken up alone and had no one around to tell him that, he probably would have panicked even further. “Well, that’s okay then, I guess,” he eventually said, giving the sorcerer an easy smile. “It’s not hurting me, which I can only assume is a good thing.”

“Are you hurting anywhere else?” the sorcerer asked, pulling a long wooden staff off of his back and holding his free hand over Shiro’s chest. “I’m obviously not going to be able to heal you if you are, but I might be able to create bandages or something…” He trailed off into muttering under his breath in a foreign tongue, his staff waving in small circles as his hand started to glow. After a moment, he leaned back and sighed. “No wounds that I can detect.”

Shiro gave his own body a quick check as well. He wiggled his toes and took a deep breath, checking for any aches or pains, but there was nothing. “I think I’m okay,” he told the sorcerer.

“Can you stand?” the sorcerer’s companion suddenly spoke up, their voice surprisingly soft compared to their menacing appearance. Shiro’s head whipped in their direction. They still stood a distance away, keeping an eye on Shiro and the sorcerer, though their hand was no longer clenched tightly on their dagger.

“I…think so?” he said. “Or at least I can try.”

“I’ll help,” the sorcerer offered, returning the staff to his back and proffering his hand towards Shiro. Shiro took it gratefully in his flesh hand, and slowly struggled upright. He wasn’t sure how much help the sorcerer was actually providing, considering Shiro was wearing full armour and the sorcerer looked to be much smaller and slighter than him, but he still appreciated the effort. Slowly but steadily, Shiro rose, until he was standing on his own two feet.

“There,” the sorcerer said, satisfied. “How do you feel?”

Shiro considered the question, and then shrugged. “A bit dizzy, but otherwise fine.”

“So you’re not hurt,” the hooded companion said, finally approaching. “But you have no idea where you are or what happened to you? You look like you’ve been through a massive battle based on the state of your armour, yet you have no wounds? Something odd is going on here, and I don’t like it.”

“You’re right,” Shiro agreed, startling the suspicious person. “But I have no idea what it is, and it sounds like you don’t either. Besides, I’m the one at the disadvantage here. I have no idea what’s going on and I’m still woozy. There’s two of you versus one of me, and you at least know where we are. If anyone should be nervous about this situation, it’s me.”

The hooded figure seemed to consider him for a moment, and then their demeanour changed completely, melting from closed off to relaxed and open. They reached up and pulled their hood down, revealing a young girl that looked so much like the sorcerer that they must have been siblings. “Good point,” she said, giving him a smirk, and then she held out her hand. “I’m Pidge, and this is my older brother Matt. We’re on an adventure looking for our parents who went missing when the Galra army attacked our village, do you want to come with us?”

“Seriously, Katie?” the sorcerer, Matt, cut in before Shiro could respond. “You go from being ten seconds away from stabbing the guy in the throat to inviting him to join us in the span of a single sentence?”

Pidge – Katie? – just looked at her brother flatly. “You’re the one that said that we were going to need help if we were going to defeat Emperor Zarkon and rescue mom and dad. He has no memory, so we _know_ he doesn’t have other plans right now.”

“He’s a total stranger!”

“He’s a paladin,” Pidge shot right back, gesturing to Shiro’s armour. “A paladin of Voltron, based on the icon on his chest, at that. That means he’s gotta be a good guy.”

“You _just_ _said_ that he could have stolen the armour,” Matt argued just as passionately, “and that it could all be a trap to lure in idiots that trust clothes more than people.”

“I never said that!”

“You literally just said that! Like five minutes ago when we first found him!” Matt shouted, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “You didn’t even want me to go check on him to make sure he was okay!”

“Um, excuse me!” Shiro tried to cut in on the argument. He gulped and took a quick step backwards when both siblings whirled on him in unison, giving him identical murderous glares. “Uh, sorry to interrupt, but the sun seems to be going down? And I don’t know about you but I’d rather not be in these woods at night. Maybe we can continue this at an inn?”

The siblings stared at him for a moment, then shared a glance, and then nodded. “Fine. Let’s go,” Pidge grumbled, turning on her heel and striding out of the woods, already pulling her hood back up over her face.

Matt trailed after her, with Shiro bringing up the rear. He occasionally turned back to check on Shiro, to make sure he was following and not falling behind. By the third time he did it, Shiro merely sighed good-naturedly and jogged a little to catch up so that they were walking side-by-side.

“I was worried you were going to hurt your neck,” he offered by way of explanation, giving Matt a gentle smile. To his surprise, Matt ducked his head and blushed, hiding behind the brim of his hat.

_Interesting_ , Shiro thought to himself, and he decided to himself that following along with this team, Matt in particular, might be a great idea after all.

 

◊°◊°◊

 

Their discussion at the local inn lasted three and a half hours, and involved a three course meal, plenty of ale, two more shouting matches between the siblings, and Shiro having to apologize to the waitress over a spilled tray of drinks, but the end result was that Shiro joined their party.

 

◊°◊°◊

 

“See, I _told_ you that this skill would come in handy,” Pidge hissed over her shoulder, making Matt roll his eyes and Shiro shift uncomfortably. The two of them were standing watch as Pidge worked to unlock the side door of the fortress, hoping to sneak into the rarely-used records room to get some information on where their parents might have been taken.

“I’ve failed you as a brother,” Matt muttered under his breath. “What kind of big brother lets his sister become a rogue? A thief? Mom and dad will be so ashamed.”

“Shut up and give me a light,” Pidge grunted.

Matt rolled his eyes again, but grudgingly held out his staff, letting the tip glow faintly. Pidge swore a little under her breath as she continued to work, but after only a few more seconds, there was a soft click, and she cheered quietly.

“We’re in,” she told them, pulling the door open as gently as she could. But when she’d managed to open it about a foot, the hinges suddenly let out an ear-splitting shriek that rang through the night. The group froze.

“What was that?” they heard someone say in the distance, a guard’s silhouette appearing along the far wall in the torchlight.

“Fuck,” Pidge swore.

“Run!” Matt shouted, grabbing her and Shiro by the hands.

The three of them bolted down the alley, ducking around corners and trying to escape from the increasingly louder shouts of the guards behind them. Pidge was practically a flying shadow as she ducked and weaved through the twisted alleys of the city, but Matt was dressed in thick robes and carrying too many supplies. He couldn’t keep up.

Inevitably, he tripped, his foot catching on the hem of his robes. He cried out, short and startled, but before he could hit the ground, Shiro was already catching him. Without even breaking stride, Shiro scooped Matt up into his arms and continued to run after Pidge, his eyes trained on her back.

“S-Shiro!” Matt gasped, one hand clutching at his hat as it nearly fell off of his head, the other looping around Shiro’s neck for more stability.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Shiro told him, his voice only slightly strained. “I won’t leave you behind.”

And then he gave Matt another bright grin, and Matt had to bury his face in Shiro’s shoulder to hide the blush burning across his face.

They escaped, thanks to Pidge’s quick thinking, Shiro knocking over a wall with his magically enhanced arm, and Matt casting darkness, but they didn’t get the information they’d been after.

 

◊°◊°◊

 

Shiro had to admit, as he watched the two people on the side of the road, it was actually kind of funny. Pidge clearly didn’t think so, based on the way she was staring at the performance like she was personally offended, but Matt was cracking up so hard he had to lean on his staff for support.

The duo was a bard and barbarian, the bard berating his companion while the barbarian slowly inched his way up a tree, trying to get to a small kitten that seemed to be trapped up in the highest branches. The barbarian was decked out in full warrior’s gear, his bulky form covered in thick furs and leather wraps, a massive pair of axes strapped to his back, but he was looking up at the kitten with such concern, so out of character for a barbarian based on what Shiro knew of the berserkers, that it was completely comical.

The bard himself seemed to be a standard performer, tall and slim, his gangly body decked out in brightly dyed clothes with at least two instruments visible on his person. At first Shiro had thought he’d been hurling abuse at the barbarian in the tree, but as they came closer and the words became clearer he realized that the bard was actually offering words of encouragement and advice. Of course, all of it was useless or extremely unhelpful, but at least he was trying.

Their group watched for a minute before Shiro finally spoke up. “They look like they need help,” he said as the barbarian slipped and slid down the trunk, likely getting a face-full of bark in the process. He hadn’t even made it up to the first branch yet.

“They look like they need _so_ much help,” Pidge agreed, though Shiro had a feeling she didn’t mean it in the same way he had.

“Let’s go help them,” Shiro suggested, and started walking towards the pair. He heard Pidge curse behind him, but she caught up shortly after, dragging her brother who was still wheezing faintly and rubbing tears from his eyes.

“Hi there!” Shiro announced as they approached, holding up his human hand in greeting. The bard and barbarian whipped around to look at the newcomers, but Shiro was pleased to see that neither of them reached for weapons. Friendly travellers were always the best kind of people to meet on the road. “You guys look like you’re having some trouble. What happened?”

The bard sighed, pointing towards the cat up in the tree. “Our cat got stuck up a tree, what does it look like?”

“So why the hell aren’t _you_ going after it?” Pidge pointed out to the bard, hands on her hips. “Your friend is clearly too bulky.”

The bard glared at her before looking away. “I’m afraid of heights,” he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “Besides, she’s Hunk’s cat, not mine. And hey, aren’t you a rogue? You’re supposed to be good at climbing stuff, maybe _you_ should go get her.”

“Why the hell would I risk my neck for some stranger’s dumb cat?”

Hunk, the barbarian Shiro assumed, had turned back to the tree the moment he realized his friend would be dealing with the party. “Butter! Butter!” he called up to the cat, reaching towards her. “Come on, come to papa!”

“The cat’s name is _Butter_?” Pidge scoffed with a raised eyebrow.

Shiro privately agreed that it was an odd name for a cat, but it did seem fitting as well. From what he could see of the cat from the ground, its fur was a nice golden colour, dappled in darker shades where the shadows of the tree’s leaves coated it.

“Yup!” the bard said cheerfully, before holding up the basket that had been sitting at his feet. “And this is my cat, Cornflower! I’ve trained both of them to do tricks and stuff for my acts, but Cornflower gets nervous without Butter around, and now she’s really freaking out.”

There was a quiet meow, and then a tiny head poked out of the basket’s lid. A small grey cat with gorgeous blue eyes peered up at them in curiosity. It meowed pleadingly again, its tongue darting out to wet its little pink nose.

Shiro could see the exact moment Pidge melted.

“Fine,” Pidge grumbled, tossing aside her hood and rolling up her sleeves. “I’ll go rescue the stupid cat so that you guys can stop looking so stupid.” She grumbled under her breath the whole way over to the tree, shoving Hunk aside and starting up the trunk like a squirrel.

“Be gentle though!” the bard called up after her. “Butter can get a little frisky with strangers, so you gotta be gentle with her or she’ll scratch you!”

Pidge just swore at him.

Fifteen minutes later Butter was safely out of the tree and purring in Hunk’s arms, while Shiro got to practice some of his budding healing magic on the numerous scratches across Pidge’s face and arms.

He had a feeling that magic had never been his forte in the past, but when Matt had seen him use a few simple spells once, his eyes had lit up like he’d been given a rare magical artefact. He’d been so excited to have someone else to practice magic with that Shiro had been unable to deny him, and now Shiro was getting quite proficient at divine magic. His magic-boosting metal arm certainly didn’t hurt.

Pidge, to her credit, just glared at the bard from across the clearing where they’d settled, staring him down unflinchingly even when Shiro’s metal thumb accidentally brushed against one of the cuts. The bard seemed unintimidated though, sticking his tongue out at her when he caught her staring.

“I warned you,” he sang smugly.

“I should have dropped the stupid cat on your dumb head,” Pidge grumbled.

“Pidge,” Shiro said reproachfully, and then he leaned back, checking her over. “There, I think that’s it.”

“Thanks, Shiro.” She hopped off of the tree stump he’d sat her on, and started striding back towards the others. The bard was carefully tuning his lute as he waited for them to finish, but Matt and Hunk were distracted with Butter and Cornflower, cooing over the kittens and petting their soft ears.

“Okay, that’s my good deed of the day,” Pidge announced, stopping in front of Matt. “Shall we move on?”

“Where are you headed?” Hunk asked, finally looking away from his cat.

Matt answered, pulling a worn piece of parchment from the pouch at his hip. “I think we were headed for Balmera next?” His finger trailed over the lines of their map before stopping at a point and tapping it. “Yes, Balmera.”

“Oh hey, that’s where we’re headed too!” the bard exclaimed, leaning over to look at the map as well. “I was hoping to make some coin there, and Hunk just wanted to try the local cuisine. We should go together!”

“That makes sense,” Shiro cut in before Pidge could protest, already placing a calming hand on her shoulder. “The roads in this area can be dangerous, so it’s smart to travel in a group. I’m Shiro by the way, this is Pidge and her brother Matt.”

“Lance,” the bard introduced himself, hopping to his feet so that he could offer Shiro a handshake. “And that’s Hunk. You’ve already met Butter and Cornflower.”

Matt made a baby noise at Cornflower as he tickled her belly, and Shiro momentarily felt his insides go all gooey. He wondered if he could blame it on the cats.

“Nice to meet you guys,” Shiro said, trying to distract himself from his thoughts. “Shall we head out then? Probably best to make it to town before dark.”

They gathered up their supplies and began to walk. Matt and Hunk led the group, the two chatting about cats and sharing stories while Lance took the middle spot, strumming his lute and humming absently. Shiro had to admit that it was actually kind of nice to hear music as they travelled.

Shiro and Pidge brought up the rear, mostly because Pidge was still pouting and Shiro wanted to keep an eye on her to make sure that she didn’t end up attacking Lance with her knife. He didn’t _think_ she was that kind of chaotic person, but he wasn’t completely sure.

“We’re only travelling with them until Balmera,” Pidge insisted to Shiro in a low voice, her expression dark. “That’s it. They are _not_ staying with our group.”

“Of course,” Shiro agreed, placating.

 

◊°◊°◊

 

They stayed with the group.

 

◊°◊°◊

 

Shiro kind of wished that he could remember more of his past, but even if he could, he was pretty sure he’d never seen anything like this.

“She’s beautiful,” Hunk breathed as he stared wide-eyed at the retreating backs of the gargoyle and her brother as they vanished back into the depths of the abandoned temple. “She’s amazing.”

Admittedly, the gargoyle who had introduced herself as Shay did seem unbelievably kind and gentle, especially for a gargoyle, but Shiro wasn’t sure he’d call her ‘beautiful’. She had the same bulky form and demonic appearance as others of her kind, though she’s spoken softly to them and graciously offered them a place to sleep when they’d had to run from the inn in Balmera due to an attack by Galra forces.

“The Galra army destroyed this temple years ago,” Shay had told them sadly as she pressed her stone hand against one of the last pillars in the main sanctuary that wasn’t broken or damaged. The intricate stonework was beautiful, and it made the destruction all around them seem so much sadder. “Smashed every image of the god that was worshipped here and burned all of the texts. We don’t even remember who this temple was dedicated to. But my brother and I hope that someday the people will return and repair it, and so we stand guard over this site until that day.”

She’d then showed them to a small alcove to the side of the temple where the damage wasn’t as bad, pulling tattered curtains and old patchy cushions off of shelves to offer them a place to sleep. Her brother Rax had arrived shortly after, and although he was much less welcoming than Shay, he’d still grudgingly allowed them to stay and offered them protection while they were on the temple’s grounds.

“Don’t worry,” Hunk had suddenly spoken up, looking more determined and serious than Shiro had ever seen him. “Our group is on a mission to take down Emperor Zarkon and free Altea from the Galra army’s control. One day we’re going to succeed, and when we do, I’ll come back here and help rebuild your temple.”

It had been a strong declaration, but looking at Hunk, Shiro believed that he would do everything in his power to make it come true. Rax looked less than convinced, but Shay had looked at Hunk with her hands clasped over her mouth with such wonder, that it was surprising that she didn’t immediately try to join them right then and there. Gargoyle instincts were quite strong, Shiro supposed, and it would take a lot to make Shay and Rax leave their home.

Still, as they settled down for the night, Shiro couldn’t help but wistfully wish that someone would look at _him_ the way that Shay had looked at Hunk; like he had personally brought the stars down from the sky for her.

He didn’t notice the way Matt’s eyes had lingered on him long after the campfire light had faded.

 

◊°◊°◊

 

Shiro grunted in pain as the bugbear slammed him into a tree trunk, its club crossed with his sword. The bugbear pressed its advantage, leaning its considerable strength against him to force Shiro’s own blade towards his exposed throat. The bugbear grunted at him, its foul breath gusting across his face and making Shiro’s eyes water.

“A little help!” he called out desperately, even as he strained against the bugbear.

But the rest of their party was a little busy dealing with the _other_ bugbear. Unfortunately Matt had been attacked first just as the group had finished setting up camp for the night, getting knocked into a tree, and had been out of the fight ever since.

Shiro’s blood had gone cold when he heard Matt’s cry of pain, and he’d immediately attacked the bugbear that had hurt him, snarling in wordless rage. Thankfully the rest of their group was fast to act as well, Hunk and Pidge immediately springing into battle while Lance rushed to Matt’s side and started casting healing magic.

The problem was that while Hunk’s berserker rage put him on equal footing with the bugbear strength-wise, he wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. It didn’t help that he’d admitted earlier that he rarely if ever used his berserker rage because he didn’t like fighting, and therefore was inexperienced with its effects. The only thing keeping him from being clubbed to death was Pidge’s quick attacks at crucial moments, keeping the bugbear distracted, but she was too small and her daggers too short to do much more than annoy the bugbear.

It wasn’t looking good. Shiro hissed in pain as the bugbear pinning him down gave a particularly hard shove, and the edge of his sword caught on his shoulder, sinking in slightly and drawing blood.

“Shit,” Shiro swore.

And then a terrifying roar rang through the air.

Everyone, including both bugbears looked over in the direction of the noise, but none of them had time to actually register what was happening before a bulky form suddenly lunged out of the tree line. There was a rush of wind and a bellow from the bugbear pinning him, and suddenly Shiro found himself free, gasping for air and clutching at his wounded shoulder. He watched with wide eyes as the newcomer tore into the bugbear, making quick work of it.

The second bugbear hesitated for a second, clearly debating about pushing its luck now that the tables had turned, but it was just a second too long. A figure stepped out of the shadows from behind it and drove a short sword through its chest, killing it instantly. When the bugbear’s body fell away, it revealed a young man with shaggy dark hair dressed in dark leather armour and bearing all the tools of a ranger.

The ranger stared out over their collective group for a moment, and then whistled sharply. The creature that had attacked Shiro’s bugbear rose and prowled towards him, and in the flickering light of the campfire Shiro realized it was some kind of big cat. A lioness, from the looks of her, but there were strange stripes of red across her coat that in the dim lighting could have been natural or paint, it was hard to tell. She stopped at the ranger’s feet, daintily licking blood from her paw.

The rest of the group was busy being stunned into silence, or recovering from the fight, but as Lance was the freshest, he hopped up, approaching the ranger warily.

“Where the heck did you come from?” he asked suspiciously.

The ranger just raised an eyebrow at him. “What, no thank you for saving your lives?”

Lance wasn’t deterred, though. He looked the ranger over, hands on his hips and close to the custom crossbow Shiro knew he kept there. “How do we know you _did_ save us, huh? Maybe you were working with those bugbears. Maybe you set them on us to begin with. You’re a ranger, right, you talk to monsters all the time.”

“T-that’s not how it works!” the ranger hissed, his hackles going up. At his side, the lioness let out a warning growl.

“Lance,” Shiro cut in breathlessly before this could escalate any further. He slowly made his way over, limping slightly. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Pidge helping a woozy Hunk over to the campfire where he could rest off the hangover-like feeling that a berserker rage usually left him with. “Thank you for your help,” Shiro told the ranger gratefully as he came to a stop before him, a respectful and cautious distance away. “You’re right, you probably saved our lives.”

But the ranger hardly looked to be paying attention to his words. He’d gone stiff the moment Shiro had approached, coming into the firelight. His eyes were fixed on Shiro’s face as he stared at him in disbelief, his mouth dropping open slightly. Even his lioness had gone unnaturally still. Shiro frowned, confused, but a quick glance at Lance showed the bard looked just as lost as him.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asked, reaching out to the ranger.

But he was stopped short when the ranger blurted out, “Shiro!?”

That certainly got everyone’s attention. “Wait, you know me?” Shiro gasped, looking the ranger over again, hoping to spark some memory or even faint recognition. To his disappointment, there was nothing.

“Know you?” the ranger repeated incredulously, “Are you serious? Shiro, I thought you were _dead_.”

“Oh boy,” Lance cut in, reaching out and slinging an arm across both Shiro and the ranger’s shoulders, guiding them back towards the campfire. “I can tell this is going to be a fun story. Why don’t we get dinner started while you two chat?”

 

◊°◊°◊

 

“We grew up together,” the ranger, who had introduced himself as Keith, said quietly. His eyes were fixed on the bowl of stew that Lance had shoved into his hands earlier. Lance’s cooking wasn’t nearly as good as Hunk’s, but Hunk was currently out of commission and Lance had picked up a few things during his travels with the barbarian so he was in charge of dinner that night. Shiro was happily gulping his portion down as Keith talked, his focus completely on the ranger as he ate up Keith’s words just as greedily as his actual food.

“We were both training to be Paladins of Voltron together. You were above me, of course, older and more experienced, but you took me in and decided to mentor me when I started to show promise. We’d always talked about going on adventures together, helping people and protecting them.” Keith’s expression was wistful, and something in Shiro’s chest ached with familiarity, but no memories came.

“And then?” Lance prompted when Keith didn’t continue, equally involved in the story.

Keith’s expression soured. “And then one day Shiro was sent out on a mission with some of the more advanced Paladins, and he never came home. The rest of the team turned up dead, attacked by the dark druids of the Galra army, and everyone just assumed that he’d died with them.” Keith’s fist clenched around his spoon so hard that his leather gloves creaked. “But I refused to believe it.”

His head rose and he finally looked Shiro in the eye. “I started studying tracking and scrying magic, trying to figure out how to find you. The order didn’t like how aggressive I was getting, though, and they told me to cut it out. When I refused, they kicked me out. For a while I didn’t know what to do, but I’d picked up a lot about survival in the wilderness when I was learning tracking, so I decided to try being a ranger for a while.”

“And then Ruby here showed up one day,” he finished, smiling down at his lioness and patting her head, “and it made me realize that I was never meant to be a paladin. Ranger just fit me so much better.”

Ruby briefly raised her head to bump her forehead against Keith’s fingers, but then her attention quickly returned to the two kittens batting at her whiskers from her paws. Butter and Cornflower seemed to be completely oblivious to Ruby’s larger size, playing with her like she was any other cat, while Ruby tolerated it good-naturedly. It was actually kind of adorable to watch.

“Wow. Keith, I’m so sorry you had to go through all that,” Shiro said slowly, leaning back a bit against the tree trunk at his back. “I wish I’d been there to help. Or at least remembered some of it.”

But Keith just shrugged, unconcerned. “I never really gave up looking for you,” he admitted, “but I learned some things along the way. As awful as this sounds, you disappearing and me leaving the order as a result was probably the best thing that ever happened to me.” He finally took a bite of his stew, and let out a surprised hum as the flavours hit his tongue. In seconds his bowl was scraped clean, and he eyed the pot hanging over the fire as if he wanted to ask for more but didn’t know how.

Lance had been watching him carefully, though, and when he saw Keith’s hopeful look he sighed and rolled his eyes, already reaching for Keith’s empty bowl. “Try to leave some for the rest of us,” Lance said grumpily, but Shiro was amused to see that Lance had given Keith a much larger portion than he’d given any of the rest of them.

“Don’t worry Keith,” Shiro added over the sound of Keith digging into his food. He smiled when Keith offered a bit of meat to Ruby, who looked just as pleased with the flavour as Keith. “I don’t think it sounds awful.” His eyes momentarily went to the far side of the campsite where Matt and Pidge were talking in low voices, Matt still nursing his head despite Lance’s best efforts to patch him up. Shiro made a mental note to go over there later and offer his own healing magic.

Matt looked up suddenly, and their eyes momentarily locked. Shiro was the first to look away, his face going warm. Maybe he could blame it on the hot food.

“In fact, I kind of agree with you,” he murmured. He could still feel Matt’s gaze on him.

 

◊°◊°◊

 

“Are you sure about this, Pidge?” Lance asked as the party stared up at the foreboding tower that loomed over them, the only thing taller than a shrub for miles. The field around it was completely flat and barren, with no signs of traps or defense, but that only made everything seem even _more_ suspicious.

“I _told_ you,” Pidge huffed with the air of someone who had repeated themselves far too often. “The guard I bribed back in town said that they’re keeping a very powerful magic-user prisoner here. Mom and dad were both the strongest sorcerers in the kingdom who weren’t members of the royal family, so it’s _got_ to be one of them.”

“I don’t know, Pidge,” Matt piped up, gripping his staff so tightly that his knuckles were going white. His eyes were locked on the top of the tower.

Pidge whirled on him, fire in her eyes. “What, you don’t believe my intel?”

“No, I’m sure you’ve verified it like six times,” Matt quickly responded, his eyes flickering to her before focusing back on the tower. “It’s just…this has ‘trap’ written all over it. If they’re keeping mom and dad here, or any other powerful magic-users here, where the hell are the defenses? The guards? The _anything_?”

Pidge looked momentarily put out before she rallied herself. “So we’ll just go slow and be careful. I’ll check for traps, you detect magic, and everyone else can keep their eyes out for an ambush. Okay?”

Shiro glanced at the rest of their team, checking to see how they felt about this plan. Hunk looked nervous, unsurprising, but both Lance and Keith seemed to be neutral. Shiro himself was unsure. On the one hand, there was definitely something fishy going on about this setup. But on the other hand, this had been Matt and Pidge’s goal since the beginning, the thing he’d agreed to help them with ever since they’d found him lost and alone in the woods. If there was any chance that their parents could be in the tower, they had to try to get in.

Still, they had to be smart about it. “Keith, why don’t you and Ruby go ahead with Pidge. Her nose and your tracking plus Pidge’s skill at finding traps should work well together. Matt, Lance, you two keep an eye out for spells and enchantments. Hunk and I will bring up the rear in case we get attacked from behind. Sound good?”

The team looked at each other, and then back at him. They nodded in unison.

“Great. Then let’s go. Be ready, everyone,” he told them, already drawing his sword.

They moved slowly across the open field, stopping every few minutes or so while Pidge checked for traps and Matt searched for signs of magic. The further they went without encountering any obstacles, the more nervous they became, until they reached the halfway point and everyone was so on edge that the slightest noise made them collectively jump.

“Okay, seriously,” Lance finally spoke up. “Where the hell is the security for this place?”

As if answering his question, a heart-stopping roar suddenly ripped through the air. The team gasped and screamed as a hulking dark shape seemed to fall from the sky, swooping over them and leaving a backdraft so strong that Keith had to grab the back of Pidge’s cloak to keep her from flying away. Shiro looked up in time to see a massive black dragon land on the ground before them, shaking the earth and sending them all to their knees. The dragon glared down at them, standing between them and the tower, and spread its crimson wings wide, their sheer size blocking out the sun above them.

“You just had to ask,” Keith snarled in Lance’s direction.

Shiro had to give Keith credit for his guts, because right now Shiro was too terrified to even speak. The dragon was huge, scales black as midnight and golden eyes staring down at them as if it was just trying to decide which of them to eat first. This was no bugbear. This was no giant or wild animal or beast. This was a _dragon_. It was going to kill them all.

But then Lance suddenly leaned over, moving slow as molasses to not startle the dragon, and started speaking to Shiro out of the corner of his mouth. “Shiro,” he hissed. “Shiro, you need to seduce the dragon.”

Fear was replaced with sheer what-the-fuckness. Shiro looked at Lance in disbelief, still processing what had just been said to him. “You want me to _what_.”

“Seduce. The damn. Dragon,” Lance repeated slowly, enunciating every word. “You’re the hottest one here, it’s gotta be you.”

“I am not seducing a dragon!” Shiro whispered back harshly, and if he sounded a bit hysterical, he didn’t think anyone could blame him. They were about to die, and Lance was trying to convince him to hit on a giant friggin lizard!

“Yes, you are,” Lance said more firmly, and then he cast a spell over Shiro’s form.

Shiro never found out what spell Lance actually used. It wasn’t one he recognized and he was half-convinced that Lance had made it up on the spot out of desperation. But later the party agreed that it had made Shiro look absolutely irresistible, and if they hadn’t been busy trying to not die, they all would have jumped him on the spot.

Shiro seduced the damn dragon.

 

◊°◊°◊

 

Matt looked disappointed but unsurprised when the prisoner inside the tower turned out to be a fair maiden instead of their parents. Pidge, on the other hand, had been devastated, and she’d stormed out of the room with tears in her eyes. Hunk had tossed a helpless look at the rest of them before following after her, Butter and Cornflower’s basket slung under one arm. Shiro let them go, knowing that if anyone could cheer Pidge up, it was the gentle barbarian and his kittens.

But that left the prisoner that they’d accidentally rescued. She’d risen from her desk as they’d entered, staring at them with narrowed eyes, but otherwise looked unaffected by their sudden appearance. However, Shiro noticed that her hand that was resting casually on the desk was suspiciously close to the sharp-looking letter opener sitting on its surface.

“And who are you?” she asked when none of them immediately spoke. She had an accent that immediately identified her as nobility at the least, which was further supported by the richly embroidered dress that she wore.

A quick look at the others showed that Shiro was once again expected to speak on their behalf. “My name is Shiro, my lady,” he began, dropping to a knee as was appropriate for someone meeting a woman of higher station. “And these are my companions. Keith, the ranger. Lance, the bard. Matt, the sorcerer. His sister Pidge is the one that left the room earlier, and the one who followed was Hunk.”

She continued to watch him warily, her hand still uncomfortably close to the letter opener. “And you defeated the dragon that guards this tower, I presume?”

“We did…something like that,” Shiro admitted reluctantly, cursing the blush he could feel spreading across his cheeks. Outside the tower, there was a lonely moan, the dragon calling out to its one true love.

Slowly, one of the woman’s eyebrows rose. “Quite.”

There was a long, awkward pause.

And then the woman seemed to collect herself, shaking out her long, silvery hair, and giving them a hard look. “So, you’ve come to rescue me, then?”

Shiro winced. “Um…actually?”

Thankfully Matt took pity, because he stepped forward, bowing at the waist in a traditional manner that caused Shiro’s body to go stiff. That wasn’t the bow of a commoner meeting a noble. That was the bow of a nobleman showing respect to someone just slightly higher than his station.

Abruptly Shiro remembered what Pidge had said earlier about their parents being the most powerful sorcerers in the land outside of the royal family. If that was true, then they must have been nobles themselves.

Gods, Matt was of noble blood. And Shiro had been speaking to him and treating him like he was some kind of commoner like Shiro himself. Shiro’s gut twisted.

“Forgive me, Princess Allura,” Matt said, his tone respectful, and Shiro was torn from his thoughts and back to the situation at hand. “But my sister and I were actually here because we believed my parents, Lady and Lord Holt, were being kept here. We had no idea it was you in the tower. To be honest, most of the Kingdom believes the entire royal family to be dead.”

At that point Shiro decided that he was in _way_ over his head and that his heart couldn’t take many more surprises today. Matt and Pidge were actually nobility, they’d just accidentally rescued the crown princess, technically the Queen of Altea considering her father was almost certainly dead, and he had apparently managed to make a dragon fall in love with him. It had been a really, _really_ weird day.

Thankfully Princess Allura seemed to be the kind of person who could run with just about anything, because she simply accepted Matt’s explanation with a blink. “I see,” she said. And then she turned away from the desk, heading for the massive wardrobe against the far wall of the room. As she moved, she undid the laces of her dress, the thick outer layers falling away to crumple carelessly to the floor.

All four men in the room went bright red and turned away at once as she began stripping. “P-princess, what are you doing?” Matt asked, hiding behind his hat.

“Well I’m certainly not going to be travelling in a bulky ball gown, am I?” she snorted. There was the sound of rustling fabric as she pulled a new outfit out of the wardrobe and started to dress.

“Princess?”

“You rescued me, whether it was on purpose or not, so I’m coming with you,” Princess Allura told them bluntly. “I have a Kingdom to liberate, you want to rescue your parents, and I believe that together we can achieve these goals. So!” Her sharp tone made all of them look up, to find her standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips, legs planted firmly, dressed in the practical travelling robes of a cleric. “Shall we get going?”

And who were they to argue with royalty?

 

◊°◊°◊

 

“I gotta say, Shiro,” Lance said, pitching his voice to be heard over the rushing winds, “your new girlfriend makes traveling _so_ much faster!”

Shiro just grumbled to himself from his position at the front of the dragon’s back, trying to ignore the way the dragon was cooing in delight every time he patted its scales.

 

◊°◊°◊

 

He found Matt later that night, the sorcerer lugging the heavy dinner pot over to the nearby river for washing because he insisted it was his turn. Shiro was just returning from getting more firewood, but he hesitated when he caught sight of Matt dropping to his knees next to the river, dunking the heavy cast iron pot into the water and casting a few simple spells to get it clean. It took him a few tries, Matt struggling to get the amount of soap suds right, and Shiro marvelled that he’d never figured out the truth before.

There had been so many hints, he’d just never paid any attention to them. The careful way Pidge and Matt ate, their familiarity with Lance’s stories of the kingdom’s history, the way they talked. It was so obvious. Even the way Matt had to resort to magic to clean some dishes was clearly a sign.

I seemed obvious to Shiro now that this was something that Matt had probably never needed to do before he’d started on his adventure with his sister. That as the eldest son of a noble family, he’d probably never done any chores in his life. He wondered what it must have been like for them at first, on their own for the first time, trying to get by. Matt must have been forced to learn how to care for the two of them quickly for he and Katie to have survived this long, and he was sure that Matt still blamed himself for not being able to keep Katie from becoming a rogue. But they’d needed her skills to stay ahead of their enemies, and even now Pidge’s quick thinking and even quicker fingers had gotten their party out of more scrapes than Shiro could count.

But then something else once again occurred to Shiro, and he felt his stomach churn with nausea. Matt was the son of a noble lord, heir to a title. And Shiro was just…Shiro. Not even full memories to his name. He was so beneath Matt’s level it was laughable.

How could he have ever dared to dream that they could ever be more than partners of circumstance?

A week ago, Shiro would have walked over and offered to help Matt with his chore, relishing in the chance to spend time with the other young man. Perhaps they’d talk magic, or Matt would tell more stories of the mischief that Pidge would get up to, or they’d simply sit together and enjoy each other’s company. A week ago, even a day ago, it would be the simplest thing to do.

But now Shiro knew the truth, and he couldn’t bring himself to approach.

As he turned and walked away, back to the group’s campsite, he thought he heard Matt call out his name, but he just kept walking. Better to distance himself now. That way when it was all over and they all went their separate ways, it would hurt Shiro less.

Although if he was honest with himself, it hurt too much already.

 

◊°◊°◊

 

The final battle was epic. If Lance survived, he’d have material to work with for the rest of his life.

But the night before was far more painful than any wound Shiro had received fighting Emperor Zarkon with Princess Allura at his side.

 

◊°◊°◊

 

The group had gone their separate ways that night to prepare for the upcoming fight. Hunk was gorging himself on whatever food he could get his hands on, while Pidge sat by the fire, staring into the flickering flames with a far off look as her hands mechanically sharpened her knives. Princess Allura had vanished into the trees to pray and prepare her magic for battle, while Lance and Keith had wandered off together somewhere, Ruby trailing behind protectively. Whether they’d gone to fight or fuck, Shiro wasn’t really sure, but he didn’t really care either. There was a good chance none of them would be alive after tomorrow, so as long as they were happy he had no plans to interfere.

Shiro himself had gone to the cliff overlooking the castle beyond that they’d soon be assaulting. He glanced up when he heard wing beats high above, but the dragon was only checking in on them, continuing to soar over the forest in search of food. He didn’t need to soothe the large beast tonight.

There was the sound of soft footsteps behind him, and Shiro couldn’t help it; he went stiff. There was only one person who would dare approach him tonight when he was so on edge, and it was the last person he wanted to see. And yet, with the possibility of death hanging over his head, Shiro also desperately wanted to be with them, one last time.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Matt accused him, though there was no heat in his voice.

“I have,” Shiro admitted plainly. There was no point in lies tonight, no reason to avoid the issue. The looming threat of the battle tomorrow made such things unnecessary.

“You’ve been avoiding me ever since you found out who I was,” Matt continued, coming to a stop next to Shiro. “Since you found out I was nobility.” Shiro didn’t turn his head, but he looked at Matt out of the corner of his eye. Matt’s stony gaze was fixed out in the distance, likely staring at the castle just as Shiro had been.

“Yes,” Shiro agreed softly.

“Why?” The word was choked out and abrupt, but it seemed to carry a thousand emotions, a thousand questions. Matt was hurt, betrayed by Shiro’s change in behaviour, that much was clear. He deserved an answer, an explanation.

But Shiro wasn’t sure if he could give it.

“You are the son of a Lord,” he tried to say, tried to make Matt understand. “And I am nothing. I am no-one.”

“That’s not true,” Matt spat out, angry and hurt. Still they kept their eyes trained on the castle, neither daring to look at the other. “You’re not nothing. You’re amazing. You’re the reason that my sister and I even made it this far. Dragon-tamer, Druid-slayer, Saviour of the Crown Princess. You have more titles now than me.”

“Just nicknames, not actual titles,” Shiro pointed out with a sigh. “And besides. You were there for all of that too, my Lord.”

“Don’t call me that!” Matt shouted suddenly, making Shiro jump. “Don’t you dare call me that!” The venom in his voice caught Shiro off guard, and Shiro scrambled to figure out what he’d done wrong.

“I-I just…”

“Shiro.” Matt turned sharply to face Shiro head on, and Shiro instinctively turned as well. He faltered when he saw the expression on Matt’s face; he didn’t think he’d ever seen Matt look so upset, even compared to that time when Pidge had gotten stabbed in the side and Shiro had frantically worked to heal her while Matt defended them with his magic.

“My L – Matt,” Shiro corrected himself before he could upset Matt further, and was relieved to see Matt’s hurt expression lighten just the tiniest bit.

“Shiro,” Matt repeated, and then he shifted forward the tiniest bit, and Shiro abruptly noticed how close together they were standing. “Before we met you, I was struggling to get by. To keep Katie and myself alive and out of Galra hands. We weren’t adventuring, we were barely surviving. But then you happened, and suddenly I thought we might actually have a chance at saving our parents. You took care of us, protected us, guided us, even though you barely knew what was going on around you. We owe you our lives a hundred times over.”

Shiro wasn’t sure what Matt was trying to say, so he simply responded with honesty. “I would do it all again.”

Matt’s face softened, and he gave Shiro a pained smile. “I know. That’s just who you are; giving yourself up over and over to help others, selfless to a fault. And I love that about you.”

Shiro’s heart skipped a beat at the word ‘love’, and he licked his lips nervously. But Matt wasn’t done.

“But that changed when you found out,” Matt said, his eyes dropping to the ground. His hands came up to wrap around himself as if he was cold. “You still protected us, you still looked out for us, for all of us, but it was like you didn’t care anymore. Like you were only doing it because it was your duty.”

“No, Matt, no,” Shiro cut in, unwilling to let Matt go for a second longer thinking Shiro didn’t care about him. “I promise, it wasn’t that. I would never think of you, any of you in that way.”

Matt looked up at him accusingly. “I know, but it still felt that way. Why do you think we never told you who we were? We knew the second you found out, you’d treat us differently. And sure enough…”

Shiro winced, but he couldn’t deny it. “But you’re nobility,” he argued weekly. “And I’m not.”

“And do you really think that matters one bit after everything we’ve been through?” Matt pointed out incredulously, shaking his head. “Do you really think I ever look at you and think of class status? No! Not even from the beginning! Who the hell cares what kind of bloodline either of us have, we’re fighting together to save the kingdom!”

“I know it doesn’t matter now,” Shiro said. “But that’s just the thing, it doesn’t matter _now_. The moment this is all over, you’ll go back to your family. You’ll be Lord Matthew Holt again, heir to the House Holt, noble by birthright. And I’ll just be Shiro, ex-member of the Order of Paladins. I’ll be nothing to you.”

“Shiro,” Matt said, and there was something so heavy in his voice that Shiro couldn’t help but listen. Matt sounded close to tears. “Shiro, I promise you this. No matter what happens tomorrow, or for the rest of our lives, you will _never_ be nothing to me.”

He said it with such conviction that for a moment, Shiro faltered. “I…”

“Shiro, please,” Matt gasped out, and now Shiro could see that he was crying. Heavy tears ran down his cheeks, and he sniffled once, before reaching up and placing both his hands on Shiro’s shoulders. They stood impossibly close now, and Matt’s eyes seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. “Please, please just listen to me. There’s a chance one or both of us will be dead by tomorrow, so I need you to understand this tonight. You mean _everything_ to me.”

And then Matt leaned up and kissed him.

There was a moment where Shiro’s mind couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening. But then it caught up, and with a moan Shiro melted into the kiss, his arms wrapping around Matt’s waist and pulling him flush against him. Matt let out a gasp, but adjusted easily, shifting the angle to deepen their kiss.

Shiro had decided to keep on his armour tonight, wary of an attack the night before the final battle, but now he cursed his decision, the thick metal keeping him from feeling every inch of Matt’s body against his own. Frustrated, he momentarily pulled away, cursing as he fumbled with the straps keeping his armour in place. Matt had looked heartbroken for a split second when Shiro had pulled away, but when he saw what Shiro was trying to do, his eyes had gone wide and dark.

“Here,” he said softly, his hands glowing with power, and then all of Shiro’s armour fell away as if invisible hands had surrounded him and removed it, each piece stacking itself neatly in a pile nearby.

Shiro didn’t even bother acknowledging the show of power, immediately taking advantage of his lighter attire to pull Matt close once more. He gasped as Matt’s hands snuck under his loose tunic, grasping at his bare skin, but he didn’t complain. He tilted his head to the side, giving Matt access to press kisses against the side of his throat, sighing happily.

“Tonight might be our last,” Matt whispered against his ear. “Let’s make it count.”

“Yes,” Shiro breathed, already reaching for Matt’s belt.

Above them, the moon and stars continued to shine, unaware and uncaring of the fate that would befall them in the morning. In the distance, there was a roar of victory that rang out over the valley. The dragon had successfully completed its hunt.

 

◊°◊°◊

 

Months and months ago, when Shiro had first found out about his arm being created from both divine and arcane magics, he had absently thought that it was rare for a person to be able to twist divine magic for sinister purposes. That those people who were smart and cruel enough were few and far between.

Haggar, the leader of the dark druids, turned out to be just that kind of person.

She had appeared shortly after Shiro and Allura had arrived at Emperor Zarkon’s inner sanctum, delivered there safely by the dragon. After giving the great beast a pat on the snout, Shiro had sent it off to help the others, who were distracting Zarkon’s forces below. Then the pair of them had advanced on the usurper, ready to take him down once and for all.

But then Haggar had arrived, an evil smirk on her face, and raised her hand to Shiro.

He screamed as her magic tore through him, emanating from the runes on his arm. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt, dark energy rushing through him and giving him strength even as it weakened his will. He watched in horror as his metal arm rose of its own volition, the fingers glowing with dark energy, and reached out towards Allura. His body sluggishly followed after it, no matter how hard he struggled. The witch was controlling him like a puppet, and he was helpless against her. His body took one menacing step towards the princess.

Allura, to her credit, didn’t even hesitate. She turned her staff on him, her expression hardening in determination.

If Shiro had ever had any doubts about Allura’s abilities before, they were certainly gone now. She moved like a hurricane through the throne room, keeping Shiro at bay with her staff, trading spells with Haggar, and launching attacks at Zarkon whenever she had a second to breathe. If he wasn’t currently being mind-controlled and forced to attack her, Shiro would have loved to just stand and watch her for a moment; her every move was full of grace and power, each attack calculated and precise. She was absolutely stunning to behold.

But she was only one against three, and all too soon she started to tire.

A lucky hit from Shiro’s arm sent her tumbling across the room, and she took a second too long to get up. Her body arched as Haggar’s dark magic slammed into her, jolting her like she’d been hit by lightning. Shiro wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything. Not even look over at Emperor Zarkon when the man let out a dark chuckle, enjoying watching Allura’s pain.

It looked to be all over. Haggar forced Shiro’s body towards Allura, his metal arm drawing his blade no matter how hard he tried to force it back into its sheath. Allura moaned in pain as he dragged her to her knees, but she was too stunned to fight him, even as his body stood over her, arms and sword raised high above his head as he prepared for the killing strike.

And then the doors of the great chamber burst open and an army of people led by a man with a bushy moustache charged into the room shouting battle cries, weapons raised, and for a split second Haggar’s will faltered and Shiro managed to wrench control of his own body back to himself. He didn’t even pause, knew there was no time to hesitate. He saw Allura look up at him and from the way her eyes went wide, he knew she understood exactly what he planned to do.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, the only thing he had time to say.

And then he reversed his grip on his sword and plunged it into his own stomach.

 

◊°◊°◊

 

It turned out that Lance survived the battle, go figure.

But Keith didn’t. He’d gone down with Ruby at his side, protecting Lance from a thrown dagger. They’d apparently both died in Lance’s arms.

Hunk had used up all of his berserker rage within the first ten minutes of battle, but he’d kept fighting even though he’d been exhausted. Later one of the soldiers that had arrived late to the battle reported that he’d still been fighting even with six arrows in his body. No one had actually seen the shot that took him down.

Pidge had vanished early on in the fight, but was nowhere to be found by the end of it. Only her hood remained, tattered and bloody, found hanging from a torch in one of the hallways of the castle leading to the dungeons.

And Matt? Matt looked out over the battlefield, his magic searching and searching for any signs of the ones he loved and returning to him over and over again with nothing, and screamed.

 

◊°◊°◊

 

On a higher plane of existence, far above the battle and death and heartbreak happening below, something stirred, its attention caught by a single prayer called out in its name. The being listened, and looked, and chuckled in response.

_Oh yes, you’re right_ , it agreed with the prayer. _That simply_ **_won’t_ ** _do._

And it reached out and _touched_. . .

 

◊°◊°◊

 

Lance was the only one who would talk about it if asked, and he was happy to tell the story. No one was really sure how much of it was true; it sounded so fantastical after all. But _something_ miraculous happened that day, no one could deny that.

Lance said that Allura had appeared before the people, wreathed in holy light, hovering above the ground with her eyes glowing with inner power. She had reached out and laid her hands on the fallen, and they’d immediately opened their eyes, bodies healed as if they’d never been wounded in the first place. She never spoke, never made a sound, simply gliding through the battlefield and healing everything in her path.

Lance had almost knocked her hand away when she’d come for Keith, but when Keith had opened his eyes again, blinking up at Lance in confusion, Lance had burst into tears, burying his face in Keith’s chest and thanking Allura over and over. Keith privately insisted that he just let Lance hold him; he had immediately guessed what had happened after that strong of a reaction, and had know Lance needed the comfort.

Both of them estimated that it took Allura – or whatever was working through her that is – about an hour to clear the battlefield of the fallen. Afterwards she’d collapsed into the arms of a man who introduced himself as Coran, the high chancellor and head of the royal army. He had apparently been searching for Allura ever since their party had freed her from the tower, and had gathered what remained of the Altean army to aid them as soon as he’d heard that they were going to take on Emperor Zarkon. They all agreed that Coran had most certainly saved the day, though Coran insisted that the dragon really did the bulk of the work of diminishing Zarkon’s forces.

Allura herself claimed that she had no memory of what happened after she’d been possessed. She claimed that her last memories were of her striking down Emperor Zarkon and avenging her father while Coran and his soldiers eliminated the witch Haggar. She’d then fallen to her knees at Shiro’s side, weeping and praying over his body. After that, there had been light, and warmth, and nothing.

By _everyone’s_ admission, some sort of divine intervention must have occurred. But no one was complaining. Absolutely no one.

Well. Almost no one.

 

◊°◊°◊

 

“Allura told me you killed yourself.”

Shiro winced, nearly tipping the boat he was loading up by the river. Only a quick grab by his metal hand – the runes now inert but still present – saved him from losing the whole craft. “Matt,” Shiro sighed, resisting the urge to slam his forehead against the boat’s lip.

“And now you’re running away. Without saying goodbye.”

“I nearly killed Allura,” Shiro said harshly, continuing to prep the boat as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “If Coran had been just a few seconds slower she would have been dead and then so would everyone else. Your own sister would still be dead. How can I stick around knowing I almost caused that?”

“That wasn’t you,” Matt responded just as coldly, “and we both know it. That was Haggar’s magic. She’s dead now, so it won’t happen again.”

“And you know that how?” Shiro spat, finally whirling around to face the sorcerer. For once Matt was without his trusty pointed hat or staff, standing before Shiro in nothing but simple robes with his arms crossed. He looked unaffected by Shiro’s anger. “We didn’t know what Haggar had done to me when she first put this magic on me, and we sure as hell don’t know now! For all any of us can tell, her magic might still be influencing me, and I could turn at any second and try to assassinate the Prin – the Queen!”

Matt’s expression never changed, but he didn’t respond either. They both knew that he couldn’t deny it; the Holts themselves had looked at his arm but had been unable to decipher Haggar’s work. No one knew what it could do.

“Besides,” Shiro huffed, turning back to the boat. He was almost ready to go. “Even if I never pose a threat to her, that was still the first thing her people will think of when they look at me. They found me about to chop her head off. None of them will ever forgive me for that, mind control or not.”

“And do you seriously care what some random strangers think?” Matt asked him bluntly.

“I care about what she thinks,” Shiro shot back. “I care about what you think. About what your parents and sister and what Lance and Keith and Hunk think. And right now, I can’t help but feel like…like they don’t trust me.”

“That’s not true,” Matt tried to say, but Shiro cut him off with a shake of his head.

“No, probably not, you’re right. But I can’t help but feel this way.”

There was a long moment of silence as the two of them tried to think of something to say.

“So where will you go?” Matt finally asked. His voice was even, but Shiro could still hear the defeat hidden beneath the cool mask. “What will you do?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro admitted with false cheer, giving the boat one final shove to get it into the water. He hopped in, and started reaching up to untie it from the docks. “Keith seemed to have some success trying something new, maybe that’s what I’ll do. I don’t think I’m quite suited to be a ranger, but I might try something else out. Think I can make it as a bard?”

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Matt still managed to snort. “Lance would be horrified.”

“Yeah, probably.” Shiro was just undoing the final knot when smooth hands came to rest on his own, stilling his fingers. He looked up into Matt’s eyes, and felt his resolve weaken.

“I’ll come back someday,” he promised, leaning forward to press a kiss to Matt’s hand.

“You’d better,” Matt told him, and then he bent down to kiss Shiro properly. The kiss lingered, and Shiro felt his heart clench in his chest. Like that, his determination and reasoning seemed to vanish like smoke in the wind, and he couldn’t leave Matt, he just couldn’t. He was already surging up, ready to leap out of the boat and back onto shore.

And then Matt’s hands pulled away, revealing that he’d undone the last knot, and Shiro’s boat wobbled and rolled away from the dock, getting swiftly drawn into the river.

Shiro gaped up at Matt on the shore, who was giving him a happy smile, even as tears ran down his face. “I’ll wait for you,” Matt told him sadly, hand clutching at his chest as if it pained him. “So you better come back.”

“I will, I will, I promise,” Shiro agreed, his little boat picking up speed as the river current became faster the further he went from the docks. Matt trailed after him on foot, keeping pace with the boat as it floated along.

“And you better bring back stories. And gifts and stuff.”

“The best stories and the best gifts,” Shiro promised, never looking away from Matt.

Matt had to jog now to keep up with the boat, but he was still there, still following. “And you have to be careful.”

“I will. Promise you’ll look after Midnight?”

“Oh my god, I still can’t believe you named the dragon _Midnight_ like some kind of cat,” Matt laughed, tears streaming freely down his cheeks. But Shiro was pretty sure that he was crying just as hard, so he couldn’t really judge. The end of the docks was coming up fast, and soon Matt wouldn’t be able to follow him any longer.

Matt seemed to see this as well, because he broke into a full run, hair whipping around his face. “Shiro, Shiro!” he shouted, eyes wide. “I love you! I love you, don’t you dare forget that!”

“I love you too, Matt,” Shiro sobbed. He wasn’t sure if Matt could hear him anymore at this distance, so he simply waved, blowing a cheesy kiss in Matt’s direction.

At that moment, Matt reached the end of the docks and caught himself against one of the posts. He watched Shiro go with wide, teary eyes, but he still mimed catching the kiss and pressing it to his own lips.

That was the last Shiro saw of him. The river carried his little boat around a corner, and Matt was gone.

 

◊°◊°◊

 

There is a story about the Kingdom of Altea. For many it seems too fantastical to be real. Princesses taming gods and bringing the dead back to life? Dragons fighting alongside adventurers? A barbarian who knows how to cook? But the storyteller always insists it’s true, often calling out to his ranger boyfriend sitting by the fire with his lion to back up his claims. The ranger always rolls his eyes and scoffs, but grudgingly swears that it’s all real.

Regardless of its veracity, people love the tale. Especially because at its core it is a tragic love story, of a sorcerer and paladin who fell in love, but were separated by the cruelty of their enemies long after the enemy itself had been defeated. When the storyteller reaches the end where the paladin sails away from his one true love for his own protection, his listeners are often in tears, or hastily wiping at their eyes when they think no one is looking.

“But,” the bard will tell them with the air of someone telling some sort of secret. “They say that someday, when he feels that the evil inside of himself has been purged, the paladin will return for his love, who has been waiting for him longingly even to this day. And when they are reunited, the entire kingdom will rejoice, for one of their great heroes will finally be home.”

A small girl approaches the storyteller from where she’d been curled up next to the ranger’s lion. She rests her little chubby hands on his knees and looks up at him with wide eyes and a wobbly lip. “Will he really come home someday?” she asks in a tearful voice.

The storyteller just laughs and lifts the child into his lap, resting her on his knee. “He will,” he tells her, chucking her under her chin to make her giggle, her frown melting away. “I know he will, because he loves his sorcerer.”

“And if he _doesn’t_ come home,” the ranger suddenly pipes up from the back of the room, “then we’re going to keep looking for him and _drag_ him home.”

The storyteller tips his head in acknowledgement. “True. We are working on that, aren’t we?”

The little girl giggles again, and then pats the storyteller’s shoulder to get his attention. When he looks down at her, she gives him her sweetest smile, and asks, “Can you tell it again?”

And so he does.

 

◊°◊°◊

 

Matt was pouring over a spell book, researching potential solutions to the disease that seemed to be plaguing the castle’s magnolias yet again this year, when there was a sharp knock on his door. He’d barely lifted his head from his notes when the door flew open, the person not even waiting to be acknowledged. Only one person in the castle dared open his chamber door without permission, and sure enough Pidge stood there in the doorway, framed by the light spilling in from the hall.

“Matt,” she called out, already striding into the room, her long skirts swirling around her knees. She must have been in a diplomatic meeting with Coran then; she never wore dresses anymore if she could help it. Even now she must have had at least six daggers hidden on her person, in the folds of fabric at her waist most likely.

But then she got close enough to the lantern at Matt’s side for the light to fully illuminate her expression, and all of Matt’s thoughts about her dress slipped away. He was immediately on his feet, already reaching for his staff.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“Just…come,” she told him, and before he could protest she grabbed him by the hand, hiked up her skirts, and started running for the main hall. Matt was dragged along in her wake, barely able to keep up despite the fact that he was must less encumbered by layers of fabric.

When they arrived in the hall, though, Matt immediately knew what had spurred her on so quickly. The man standing in the middle of the room had his back to them, but Matt still _knew_.

“Shiro,” he breathed, eyes wide.

The man startled at the sound of his name, and then turned. When he caught sight of Matt, his face broke into a huge grin, pulling at the new scar down the side of his face. He looked different, and yet so much like the Shiro that Matt had known despite the years between their last meeting and now.

His hair was long now, tied back in a ponytail with a few strands of his white fringe still hanging into his face. He looked broader in the chest as well, though it was hard to tell under all of his armour and clothing. Strangely, he wore a mix of leather and metal armour, with a thick barbarian fur cloak across his shoulders. A ranger’s bow was strapped to his back, while a set of daggers not unlike what Pidge used to carry were tucked at his side. He even had what looked to be potions hanging from his belt, and was that a staff? The only thing unchanged was the tabard that covered his chest, the familiar lion’s head faded, but still visible.

There was a moment of silence, and then Matt took a hesitant step forward.

“Hi,” Shiro greeted him, and though his voice was low, it seemed to echo through the great room. “I’ve, uh, come to see if your people were in need of my services.”

“And what exactly would your services be?” Matt couldn’t help but ask, eyeing the eclectic collection of armour, weapons, and equipment Shiro seemed to have on his person.

Shiro looked down at himself, looked back up, and shrugged, a pale blush dusting his cheeks. “Uh, honestly? I think I’m a little bit of everything at this point. I studied with sorcerers, ran with the rangers, prayed with clerics, trained with barbarians, partied with bards, followed some rogues, and even tried out being a monk for a bit.”

“Did you now,” Matt said absently, more than a little stunned. It was quite the list.

Shiro gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah. I learned a lot, but, um. I think I’m ready to settle down now.”

“Well, I’m sure the Kingdom of Altea could find use for a sorcerer ranger cleric barbarian bard rogue monk,” Matt paused for a second, and then realized what he was missing, and added, “Paladin.”

Shiro burst out laughing, and it was such a beautiful sound that Matt had missed so much that he couldn’t keep the grin from his face. “Well when you put it like _that._ ”

And just like that, Matt couldn’t wait another second. He crossed the great hall so quickly he might have teleported, throwing himself into Shiro’s arms. Shiro must have seen him coming, though, because his arms were already wide open, and when they closed around Matt’s body, holding him so tightly that Matt thought he’d never let go, Matt felt something in his heart that had been aching for years now finally start to ease.

“I’m home,” Shiro whispered into his ear, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Welcome home,” Matt whispered back, and let his eyes slip closed, at peace.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fun facts about this 'verse that didn't make it into the fic:  
> • I was trying to give everyone a cat in reference to the Voltron lions, but in the end only Lance, Hunk, and Keith managed to get cats. Shiro got a dragon instead.  
> • Shiro's dragon isn't ACTUALLY in love with him, it more thinks of him as it's baby. He's its beautiful boy  
> • Shiro's group of paladins was totally ambushed and murdered by Haggar's druids, but she could detect potential in him for multiple types of magic, so she kept him and experimented on him and gave him the magic arm. Shiro's potential for both divine and arcane magic is why he could basically multiclass as everything at the end there. Also, because I thought it was funny, neh  
> • That end scene is like, years later, btw. Shiro did not manage to multiclass in everything over the span of a couple months. That would be crazy  
> • I originally wanted to include a scene where the party was all sitting around the fire discussing what they wish they'd become, based on the fact that Keith managed to change from paladin to ranger. Pidge would admit that she'd wanted to be a sorcerer like their parents, but felt that she had to specialize in something else to keep her and Matt alive because he was already a sorcerer. Hunk wanted to be a cleric, but unfortunately he never had any talent for divine magic. Allura wanted to be a fighter, but she had expectations to meet. Only Lance and Matt were actually happy with the roles they chose  
> • Hunk totally went back and fixed up Shay's temple with Allura's help, and they dedicated the temple to the god that saved them at the end  
> • Speaking of which, to quote my beta: "Vol...tron?"
> 
> And that's about it. No, that's a lie, I have so many headcanons and details about this 'verse that I didn't have time/space to include, but I could go on forever if I let myself, so here's just a few. I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Finally, as always, my [main](http://ikiracake.tumblr.com/) and [voltron blogs](http://i-see-london-i-see-klance.tumblr.com/) are here, come say hi!


End file.
